


The Shore

by floralstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rimming, Telepathy, Tentacle Sex, octo!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralstiel/pseuds/floralstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The storm had come upon him like God’s unending wrath. Waves the size of mountains dwarfed his small vessel and Dean had prayed—and oh, how he had prayed, like a man devout and of the cloth—and his thoughts strayed to his brother and his blushing bride-to-be, waiting for him on the mainland. It looked like he wouldn't live to see his brother's wedding after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains octo!cas, full sized and everything. So yeah, tentacle sex ahead...

The man—creature, thing, whatever it was—was oddly charming with its quirks and mannerisms. Dean had ran his fingertips over the edge of one of his violet tipped tentacles and it wriggled and curled in on itself, and the man glanced at him as if he had been barely tickled. Dean had grinned at him, and he received a blinding, slightly confused smile in response.

The thing was so candid with his emotions, face like an open book. Dean had left early from the cave one morning in search of more flotsam from the wreck and he returned hours later with a net full of sealed bottles of wine and wax sealed crates of biscuits and the man-creature-thing had nearly torn him apart in his urgency. Dean cried out, scared for his life for the first time in the days since meeting the creature, as tentacles thicker than his thighs and twice as strong wrapped around his arms and waist, swaddling him like a newborn, but he stopped struggling as soon as he heard the _sounds_ the creature was making; desperate hums and cooing, and Dean realized that it had been _scared_ , it had _missed_ him.

“Hey man, hey, calm down before you rip me in half…” Dean wheezed, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. The creature didn’t exactly have a voice as far as Dean could tell. It’s not as if he expected him to able to speak English, it just would have been nice to hear a sign of intelligence. He made some strange crooning noise but his tentacles loosened, and he wrapped his tanned arms around Dean’s neck. Dean wriggled until his arms popped free and he returned the gesture, albeit a bit hesitantly. He’d had good fortune with the creature’s behavior before, he didn’t want to trigger any more episodes like this, who knew what would have happened if Dean hadn’t been able to calm him down.

“I just left to find things, that’s all.” Dean chuckled, stroking through the other’s salt laced hair, feeling grit accumulate beneath his fingernails. He used to care about his cleanliness before the wreck, now he was just happy to be alive, all thanks for the tentacled man from the depths.

 

The storm had come upon him like God’s unending wrath. Waves the size of mountains dwarfed his small vessel and Dean had prayed—and oh, how he had _prayed_ , like a man devout and of the cloth—and his thoughts strayed to his brother and his blushing bride-to-be, waiting for him on the mainland. Dean had weathered storms worse than this before, in his younger and foolish years when he was a deckhand on enormous galleons that could stand such violence, not the small fishing cutter he was on now. The boat had belonged to his grandfather and it was showing its years. He tried to keep it in top condition as much as possible, but when the boards beneath his feet groaned and a crack like a gunshot rattled in his ears he let the tears come. It was the mast, it toppled over like the felling of tree in the forest and splinters thicker than his fingers showered down over his bowed head.

He cursed and stared in awe as he literally felt the drag of the ocean’s surface beneath the boat as the largest wave yet swelled and formed before his eyes. He closed them, not wanting to face his doom. Seems he was a coward after all, just like his father said the day he left home. He felt the wood buckle beneath his feet and the yard from the mast swung like a haymaker and hit his stomach, knocking him from the boat. He barely had time to catch a breath before he hit the water, and he saw the boat crumple to pieces beneath the wave, he was pulled towards the trough and last thing he remembered before blacking out was a grip on his ankle, dragging him beneath the turbulence of the surface.

 

Dean woke with a shuddering, hoarse wail, and for a moment he thought he was dead after all. He couldn’t see a thing and he couldn’t move. He tasted salt on his cracked lips and he realized his eyes were held closed by a thick, teary crust that stung when he tried to blink. His tongue was like sandpaper in his mouth and he gagged at the strong taste of the sea in his throat. He managed to roll onto his side and he retched, feeling bile leak from his mouth. He coughed and shivered, moaning in disgust.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark and soon he could make out the rocky floor beneath him. It wasn’t as if he was bound or contained in any way, he just found that his limbs were unbearably sore; he felt like he did the day after a good brawl, where both he and the other guy got in some good hits. He settled on his back and listened and breathed through his nausea. He would need to find water he could stomach, and food, most importantly. He was definitely on land, but he felt phantom rocking as if he were still in water, a sensation he was familiar with.

A few hours later he struggled to his feet and he swayed dangerously for a few moments and he held his head in his hands. Blood was pounding in his ears and he spread his feet wider for balance. His bare foot hit something smooth and it fell with a clink and, curious, he bent slowly to retrieve it. It was a glass bottle, cool to the touch, and something sloshed inside it. He felt along the length of it, found the neck and felt the stiff cork blocking the lip. He popped it open and hazarded a sniff at its contents. He couldn’t smell anything, really, and he tipped it back over his lips. Cool, clean water flooded his mouth and he moaned in surprised pleasure, taking more careful, measured sips. He had meant to save some, but before he knew it he was licking at the lip to finish off the last drops. He grumbled in disappointment and clutched the bottle to his chest, he would need it later if he found a source of fresh water.

He felt his way along the cave wall, making his way to a small pinprick of light he saw in the distance. He flinched whenever his toes scraped over jagged rocks, and he cursed out loud when he stubbed his toe against a much larger one. As he approached the light he started hearing strange noises, one he recognized as the howling of wind, and between gusts he heard a soothing, rasping hum. Dean coughed and sped up now that he could see easier. The quality of the light was still pretty low, but at least he wasn’t picking his way through black. Soon the mouth of the cave loomed large in front of him and a man was lounging in a pool by the front with his back to Dean, humming some strange tune, off key and stilted, but Dean would take any human contact at this point.

“H-hello?” Dean croaked, and he barely managed to eke out the word loud enough over the howling wind, but the man flinched and snapped his head around all the same. Dean shuffled his feet and took a wary step forward. The man in the pool turned around completely but didn’t emerge from the water.

“Hello,” Dean greeted more firmly, waving his hand. The man quirked a dark brow and mirrored his movement, slowly.

“Do you…do you speak English?”

The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. Guess not. Dean noticed steam rising from the pool and he shivered again. The man noticed and smiled softly, beckoning him forward. Dean was wary, but the cold won out and he stepped into the light. He noticed he wasn’t wearing anything, he had been so numb and covered in crusted salt he hadn’t even noticed, and he belatedly covered his manhood in modesty. He blushed when the man stared at his hands, but Dean was quick to step into the water. It was incredibly warm, but soothing to his aching joints.

He relaxed and sunk down to his neck. He dunked under to clear his face and resurfaced. He gasped when he saw the man had scooted over to sit right next to him. There was hardly an inch of space between them, and the man was already reaching forward to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, scrubbing through it with some sort of cool liquid. It tingled and he closed his eyes, groaning in reluctant pleasure. The man’s nails scraped over his scalp, removing the accumulated filth from the strands, though not all of it. Dean knew he wouldn’t feel entirely clean until he had a real shower back in the civilized world.

He couldn’t even think about that right now. It wouldn’t do to get homesick, not now, especially since there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Instead he let the strange man clean his hair, he seemed to enjoy it, and Dean was too, that is until he felt a puckered limb gingerly wrap around his waist. Dean screamed in a matter most unfit for his gender and tried to jump out of the water but the tentacle tightened in response and dragged Dean back into the water. Dean froze out of instinct and fell limp, letting the limb manipulate him until it turned him around.

The man—could he call it a man?—was watching him with guarded eyes, as if waiting for him to freak out some more. Dean blinked when more tentacles emerged from the water and he gaped as one wound around the man’s stomach, a rather coy action, and another wound around his neck, covering the bottom of his face. The creature was… _shy_.

“Um,” Dean muttered when the tentacle around his stomach moved away and tickled over his chest, extending further to tap over his neck and chin and Dean fought to stay still when it ran over his cheekbones and eyebrows. The tentacles were a deep violet, the color of ripe eggplants, and the delicate undersides were a soft cream stippled by rich pink puckers. He found himself intrigued, despite his fear. Once he figure out he didn’t intend to harm him Dean started looking a little closer at his companion.

After a few hours of exploratory touches the octopus-man had become quite antiquated with each of Dean’s own limbs—one, not really something he wanted being touched, and Dean had to staunchly defend that area from curious puckers—and Dean discovered that the other had eight tentacles, some larger and sturdier than others, and a normal human torso. His tan skin was interrupted by patches of dark spots the same color of his tentacles, most around his hips and shoulders, with darker areas in sections on the sides of his neck. He was free from body hair save for his eyebrows, lashes and dark windswept locks. The man had felt along Dean’s chin and cheeks in amusement, stifling laughter when Dean’s stubble tickled his fingertips.

He let the creature explore his body as much as he dared, making sure that the man understood that he didn’t want a wayward tentacle wriggling its way between his butt cheeks, Dean had blushed crimson when it happened the first time. Obviously he would be curious over the lower half of his body, as Dean was of his, but such touches would have to be saved for another time.

Throughout the remainder of the day the creature showed him where the fresh water came from, as well as a trove of supplies from other wrecks hidden away in an alcove on the side of the cave, some from Dean’s own vessel. He frowned when he saw a piece of familiar furniture, the leg of a good chair his brother had made for him. He picked it up and smoothed his hand over the length of it, and the creature cooed at his side. Dean looked down at him and the creature seemed concerned, his blue eyes searching Dean’s face.

“It’s nothing,” Dean whispered, dabbing at his eyes. He tossed the leg back into the pile of wood pieces; unfortunately he would need them to make a fire.

There were a few spare containers of jellies and crackers that were sealed with wax. How the delicate tins and glasses survived the wreck Dean did not know, but at least he would have some form of sustenance for the time being.

 

A few weeks later Dean was able to coax something similar to a name out of his silent companion.

“C-Cas…t…tuh…”

The man blushed and trailed off his stuttering and bit his lip, fiddling with one of his smaller tentacles. Dean just noticed that his teeth were incredibly sharp.

“Cas? I’ll just call you Cas, don’t worry about the rest. My name is Dean.”

Cas smiled, Dean blushed, and that’s when he started to develop a little bit of a crush on a man with tentacles for legs.

 

A few more weeks passed by, and Dean realized he hadn’t even thought about leaving the cave to find other humans. He had been too comfortable with just being with Cas, alone, in the cave. Now that Dean thought about it, it was weird how well they got along. Cas couldn’t really leave the pool by the front of the cave unless he ventured out to sea to fish or to find more treasures from lost ships—he’d tried to pull himself over to Dean’s makeshift cot a few feet away, and he’d managed it too, until he dried out and couldn’t get proper control of his tentacles until they were well hydrated again—and it wasn’t exactly if Dean could spend the whole time in the water. But they made it work.

The first time they kissed Cas had drawn back as if slapped and he ducked under the water with a shrill cry and didn’t surface for the next hour. Dean noticed that he had inked himself in the excitement. When Cas returned Dean was immediately at his side with an apology on his lips.

“I’m sorry, Cas, oh god, I really stepped over the line didn’t I? Oh man please don’t leave me just forget that ever happened, I…” Cas put a finger over his lips and rubbed a spot of ink off of his cheek. He then leaned forward slowly and placed his lips over Dean’s. Dean tried not to move, that usually made Cas a little bolder in his actions, and it worked. Cas cooed and framed Dean’s face, pulling him down closer to the inky water.

“Cas,” Dean whimpered as one of the man’s tentacles had found its way to one of Dean’s nipples, and Cas chuckled against his lips, circling the peaked nub with a playfulness Dean had never seen from the creature. The puckers running along the length of his tentacle each suckled over Dean’s chest and Dean carefully arched into the touch, panting. Cas pulled away from his mouth and licked his lips, bringing his hands into play. He deftly pinched and rolled Dean’s other nipple and Dean’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. These touches were not exploratory, they were practiced, Cas _knew_ that touching him this way would affect him and Dean cursed when Cas replaced his fingers with his mouth. Dean’s breath hitched in momentary fear, remembering the sharpness of the other’s teeth, but Cas was gentle as always, barely pressing down until Dean was mad with want, cradling the creature’s head in his hands and he pushed into his mouth, seeking more of that forbidden contact that set his skin afire.

He would have to give the creature a stern talking to, and he would have to attempt to find out where, exactly, he learned to touch a man’s body as he was. He couldn’t have learned it on himself, it wasn’t exactly the same, Dean knew from experience. He thought back to all those long months spent alone below deck, fisting himself beneath the quilts in a futile attempt to wrangle pleasure from his chilled body. He had pinched and rolled his own nipples and bit his lip, huffing breaths that fogged in front of him, and he whined when a draft of freezing air grazed his cock. He even tried to reach below his balls to press against his most private place—somewhere only a few men had had the pleasure of taking—but he could barely hold half-mast before he stopped, grumbling and frustrated.  

 _This_ was something completely different.

Cas growled and Dean gasped when two of his largest tentacles snapped around his waist, dragging him bodily into the inky water. Cas took his mouth again and this time the kiss was heated, powerful, and Dean let Cas hold him in place as he was ravaged. Cas’s tongue pressed between his lips and Dean opened for him without complaint. He would have thought the man would taste of the sea, of salt and fish gut, but he tasted of spice and vanilla, and Dean licked hungrily back in search of more of that flavor. Cas groaned and fisted Dean’s short hair, yanking his head back to bare his throat. Dean gasped and breathed with difficulty but that merely fueled the excitement as Cas licked along the length of his neck and bit and worried the flesh between his teeth and Dean jerked at the pleasurepain of it.

Dean knew, in a way, he was at the mercy of an experienced lover. He wondered if Cas was not a solitary creature at all, if he had a family at some point and simply didn’t spawn from an egg in the deep, left to fend for himself. He wondered if Cas had had a lover, a man or a woman. There was no other explanation what with the way he was touching Dean, knowing where to press, where to bite, where to lick, to achieve such heights of gratification. Maybe Cas had those things in his life, and like Dean, through some misfortunate turn, lost it all in the blink of an eye. It wouldn’t be so farfetched to imagine.

One of Cas’s slick tentacles brushed over Dean’s cock and he shuddered, nearly buckling over. He hadn’t even thought about how…all of _that_ would work out. Cas hummed raggedly in his ear and braced him against the jagged edge of the pool, pushing him until his top half was out of the water, resting on the ledge, and his lower half hung suspended over the water. He shivered, but didn’t dare move. Cas trailed over the newly exposed skin with curious swipes of tongue and puckered limbs until he reached the thatch of hair above Dean’s groin. He paused, then, finally unsure with himself as he was before.

Dean was erect and straining, and he struggled up to his elbows and stared down as Cas felt along the edge of his shaft with careful fingers. Dean panted when Cas’s touched grew more forceful, when he pushed Dean’s legs apart with his larger tentacles and held them stretched wide as he settled between them. The creature’s hands framed Dean’s groin and he lavished attention on it the likes of which Dean had never experienced before. Dean shuddered and moaned when Cas licked over the leaking head, sucking off the beads of water and precome that had gathered at the tip, trailing down the length, collecting the dark water from the base, spreading and scratching his fingers through his pubic hair, laughing at the ticklish sensation. Dean was far from amused. He groaned when the vibrations of Cas’s humor echoed through his body and his dick jerked beneath Cas’s lips. Cas stopped laughing and looked up at Dean, holding eye contact while he slid about half his length into his mouth.

Dean moaned and fell back onto the rough ground, gasping and writhing when Cas put others to shame with his intensity and enthusiasm. Dean had never been touched quite like this. Fumbled hand jobs in dank alleys back home hardly compared, and the few men he dared to pay with coin to take him to bed barely spared his cock a glance, focusing more on getting their own dicks wet. Dean’s hole clenched at the memory of being taken like that and he shuddered and Cas moaned when Dean unintentionally bucked deeper into his mouth.

“S-sorry,” he managed to rasp before Cas drew off with a snarl. Dean flinched, thinking that he had finally done it, he had set the monster off, and he was done for. Cas hefted and flipped Dean onto his stomach, and before Dean could even regain his breath Cas roughly pulled his cheeks apart and licked at his rim.

“Whoa, holy shit, stop!” Dean yelped, scrambling away from the edge. Dean retreated to his cot a safe distance away and pulled his tattered old blanket around his naked body. He panted and stared at Cas who was still in the pool, respectful enough not to try to follow Dean to his place of sanctuary. Dean pressed his legs together, erection temporarily forgotten, as he tried to will away the sensation that still ghosted over his rim, something he had never done before, something he had only thought of once and then buried deep down, embarrassed at the thought of another actually tasting such a place. It was filthy, it was horrifying, and Cas had _known_. How _could_ he have known? Dean, at the start, seemed to be the only human he had ever come in contact with. He had been curious at first, had not known what his legs were for, hadn’t even known what his dick was for, so why now? Why did he know these things?

“C-Cas,” Dean stuttered, and while the creature looked apologetic with his slumped shoulders and tentacles wrapped around his waist, Dean still wasn’t positive that he was safe.

“How did you, I mean, how…” Dean couldn’t even force the words out, and he didn’t even know why he bothered, Cas couldn’t understand him anyway.

Cas shook his head, and Dean took that as an answer, the man literally had no idea what Dean was saying. Cas shook his head again, this time quicker, and Dean furrowed his brows in confusion. He stood, shakily, and made his way over to the pool. He left his blanket behind, not that it would protect him much anyway, and Cas’s eyes barely strayed past his waist, it looked like he was trying to put Dean at ease.

“Can you…understand what I’m saying…?” Dean asked slowly, and Cas looked like he was considering it, for a moment, and then he bit his lip and nodded.

“How? I mean, uh, can you talk? Have you been able to understand me this whole time? I mean, what the hell, Cas?!” Dean yelled and Cas recoiled, his tentacles shifting nervously beneath the water.

He pointed at his throat, and then his mouth, and shook his head. He pointed at his forehead and then at Dean, twice, and then slumped down further into the water.

“What? What does that mean…?” Dean murmured. Cas blew bubbles in the water in frustration and pointed at his head again, and then back at Dean.

“No…” Dean whispered.

Cas smiled apologetically and shrugged. That settled it then.

“You can read my mind?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part! Sorry I took so longgggg....and yeah its basically just all porn after this. Yep.

Dean hadn’t spoken to Cas in a week.

The creature had cried out to him in his wordless whimpers and screeches, had even taken to petulantly thrashing his tentacles in the water, splashing Dean full in the face if he wasn’t paying attention. But each time Dean dried himself off and left the cave for the day without a word to scour the beach for more supplies. Cas was always apologetic once Dean returned—and he always returned, he didn’t have the heart or the courage to leave his home, and Cas—but Dean ignored his wide blue eyes and pouty lips.

His behavior was beginning to wear on Cas, and Dean could tell. Cas would wait hours before returning to his pool, and Dean could see by the way he moved that he had nearly dried out completely. But Dean had decided not to talk to Cas, and it seemed the stubborn beast had planned on staying out of the water, with Dean, as long as possible. That plan of his backfired and earned him several painful hours of recovery, and not even Dean could ignore Cas’s miserable moans of pain.

“Idiot,” Dean groaned before standing, pulling his blanket off too. He stepped into the pool and Cas froze, though Dean could see his tentacles jerkily rolling beneath the surface.

“You really fucked yourself up this time, huh?” Dean grumbled, feeling for Cas’s smaller tentacles. One shyly peeked out of the water and Dean grasped it firmly yet delicately.  Just because he was mad at Cas didn’t mean he had to be cruel to him. He had helped Cas the first time this had happened, copying the way Cas massaged the lengths of his tentacles until they were smooth and slick again. Cas bit his lip and groaned when Dean pressed a little too hard closer to the tentacle’s base and he eased up, cheeks blazing. He most certainly did _not_ want to think about how sensual that had sounded to him.

Dean was still upset over the fact that Cas openly admitted to reading his mind, quite thoroughly too—how else could he had known about Dean’s secret, sexual desires—which Dean counted as an ultimate breach of privacy and was rightfully upset.

Cas whimpered and looked like he either wanted to bury his head in the sand or wrap every appendage of his around Dean and never let him go. Dean groaned and dropped the now slippery tentacle back in the water.

“We talked about this, Cas, don’t read my mind, only when I’m trying to talk to you, okay?”

Cas paused for a moment and got that faraway look Dean now recognized as when he was combing through Dean’s thoughts, and then nodded. Dean grimaced and picked up another tentacle. It was tacky and warm in his hand and he rubbed handfuls of water into the skin until he felt its familiar slickness return.  He remembered how it had felt running over his chest, slippery and smooth, and he closed his eyes and sighed, moving further down to the tip, massaging until it wriggled out of his grip and flexed, curling into a tight circle and back again. Cas smiled in pleasure, still working on one of his larger tentacles.

The thing is, Dean wanted to forgive Cas. It wasn’t as if it was entirely Cas’s fault; it didn’t seem as if he could speak that well, let alone speak perfect English. Telepathy was his only means of communication, though Dean learned through clever imagery and miming that the connection was only one way, Dean couldn’t possibly hope to read Cas’s mind. So he was stuck with the fact that Cas could read his mind on a whim and he could do nothing about it.

After another hour or so Cas regained full health and control of his tentacles and then he shut down again, pouting and slinking to the edge of the pool with almost his entire head submerged. Dean groaned and leaned back against the rocks. He couldn’t give Cas the silent treatment for much longer.

“Cas,” Dean called, and the creature immediately perked up, rushing to his side as quick as he could propel himself through the shallows.

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” Dean started, waiting for Cas to nod in understanding, “and I know you’re sorry too, you’ve made that kind of obvious.”

Cas rolled his eyes and trilled softly. Dean grinned and took Cas’s fretting hands into his.

“I’m willing to try to make this work…” Dean said, “but I’m going to need you to promise me, again, that you won’t go prodding in my head like that ever again. That was…a bit much, much too soon.”

Cas nodded sheepishly, ducking his head down onto his chest to look up at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean chuckled and rubbed his thumbs over the other man’s cheekbones, pulling him forward for a soft, chaste kiss. He held him there for a moment and Cas was frozen, trembling only a little until Dean finally pulled away. Cas had his eyes closed and his eyebrows were bunched together in concentration. His lips were pale and less chapped than before, and Dean wanted to taste them again, so he did. Cas made a small sound when their lips met again, and again, until Dean could not find the strength of mind to stop.

Cas, so slowly and so delicately, placed his arms over Dean’s shoulders, pushing his chest against Dean’s and, for a moment, Dean could easily imagine himself in a warm bath with a lover back on the mainland, but then a slick tentacle brushed against his lower back and the illusion was shattered, in its place was something dark, forbidden, and something Dean knew he had wanted from the start.

They pulled apart with a wet filthy sound, a trail of saliva connecting them until Cas licked his lips and moved ever closer, licking and biting over Dean’s jaw and neck. Dean tipped his head back and exposed his throat. Cas made a noise then that Dean had never heard from him before, feral and guttural, and it echoed in Dean’s chest.

He whimpered and fell lax in Cas’s hold, feeling more tentacles wrap around his waist, the largest two wrapping around his thighs, and then his toes left the bottom of the pool and he gasped. He was at Cas’s mercy, and he started to harden. He wouldn’t be able to escape even if he tried, he could feel the coiled strength in Cas’s bunched tentacles and Dean shuddered and moaned when Cas focused his attentions on his chest. He would take whatever Cas would give him, he had no other choice, but he felt safe knowing that Cas would let him go if Dean wanted him too, and that was the beauty of it. He _trusted_ Cas, finally, after that long week of silence. The creature hadn’t once attempted to harm him or force him, he had given Dean the space he desired, and Dean knew he couldn’t hold out any longer. 

He moaned the creature’s name and Cas left Dean’s chest to take his mouth again, licking in past his lips to roam over his tongue, curiously feeling over Dean’s teeth—round, unlike his— and the roof of his mouth, and Dean did the same. He felt too hot, covered completely by Cas; it felt as if he had been swallowed whole. He whimpered when Cas bit his neck again, leaving a bloody impression that would surely bruise in the shape of the creature’s teeth. Dean couldn’t wait until Cas let him leave marks of his own on _his_ neck. He looked down at it and his skin was tan and smooth, covered in drops of water that Dean wanted to lick away almost desperately. He wanted to taste Cas again, over and over, he never wanted to stop. Cas dragged him close, as close as he could, brushing his hands through Dean’s hair, breathing deeply in the space between Dean’s shoulder and neck, whimpering. He buried his face there and mouthed over it, spreading more marks, peppering his shoulders with nips and licks, trailing back down to his chest.

Dean’s breath hitched when Cas settled over his left nipple and sucked. Dean’s hands scrambled for purchase against Cas’s water slick shoulders and Dean buried one hand in his hair, holding him still as Cas bit and sucked over his peaked flesh. Dean fought for breath and couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying the sweet torture. He knew he would tingle there for hours after, maybe even bruise, and he wanted that, the physical reminder of what Cas had done to him. Dean shuddered when Cas bit down harder when he pulled on his hair and Dean could no longer stifle his sounds, moaning loudly in the damp air and Cas mumbled something against his skin.

Dean pulled his head back by his hair and the creature hissed but didn’t squirm away. He looked up at Dean and bit his lip. He reached forward and framed Dean’s face, much like Dean had done earlier to him.

“Dean,” he rasped. Dean flinched and gripped Cas’s wrists.

“Cas?”

Cas licked his lips and smiled again, “ _Dean_.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered, kissing him again. It was only his name, but when Cas repeated it over and over, placing kisses over Dean’s skin in the gaps between breaths, Dean was overwhelmed. Cas’s fingers found his erection, and not unlike last time he was gentle with it, after all it was something that he himself didn’t have. Dean figured that Cas was more curious over the appendage than anything else.

Thunder rolled in from the east, drowning out Cas’s frantic whimpers of his name, and Dean sorely missed it the moment it was gone. He had known Cas could speak—only a little, it must pain him his voice sounded so hoarse and raw each time he tried—and now he missed his rasping tone. He could still feel the rumble of it against his chest, though, and it comforted him. The wind picked up and Cas sheltered him against the rocks, dragging them deeper into the ever-warm waters of the pool to stave off the cold. The rocks would have scraped his back raw if it weren’t for Cas’s tentacles cushioning the blow. The violet flesh had seemed delicate at first glance but the more they touched and the rougher Cas was with him, Dean saw that the slick skin was unmarked by scrapes or bruising.

They kissed again, hungrily, and Dean could tell Cas was taking great care not to bite him or split his lip with his teeth. He sighed against his lips and leaned into every touch he could, and it was hard, Cas was all around him, swallowing his cries with his lips as he coiled the smaller tentacle around Dean’s cock even harder. He tossed his head back and Cas was quick to cushion him from the rocks. Dean couldn’t even muster the energy to be ashamed of his actions as he writhed and pressed back harder against Cas’s hand, and the creature was sure to hold him tight.

His hands were pinned to his sides and he could do little else but shudder and whimper when Cas continued to press over his body, between his legs, pulling his thighs apart as he had before and Dean’s breath hitched. Cas caught his eye and there was something reassuring there, and Dean could finally relax completely, let Cas devour him whole.

Cas first touched him with his hands, something familiar, comforting, and it was as if he was trying to calm him. The strokes of his palm over his flesh were smooth and slow, and all he did at first was feel around between his legs, ghosting over his wrapped erection to feel beneath, at his sac and then further back still, pressing ever curious until he found Dean’s hole again.

He clenched at the memory of the last time Cas touched him there and the creature kissed his forehead, just circling him but not entering, and Dean shivered and sighed at the unfamiliar sensation. He was used to haste and pain, the sting of an incautious entry, the fear of being discovered. Out here they were alone, Dean had no reason to fear. He slumped against Cas’s chest and let the man touch him as he wished, and he murmured soft words of assent in his ear, licking at the curl of it, tasting his flesh and the salt of the air and the sea.

“Cas, please…” Dean groaned, squirming when the man’s fingertip barely pressed against him before skirting away, circling and dipping without any pattern and Dean could barely stand it. He was flushed from the heat of the pool, wind gusted over his reddened cheeks and mussed hair, teasing the tender bruised flesh of his neck and chest and he struggled out of Cas’s grip to fling his arms around his shoulders, pressing the lengths of their torsos together. He tried to rut against Cas’s stomach but the tentacle around him wouldn’t budge, _he_ couldn’t budge, Cas’s hold was so strong.

“ _Cas_ ,” he pleaded, barely able to draw breath enough to speak, and Cas cooed and pressed his finger inside. Dean froze and fought for breath, eyes shut tight, and he knew he was too tense he had no hope of relaxing around the digit and Cas kissed him softly. Dean moaned quietly and opened his eyes. Cas was looking at him with concern, but there was lust there still, and though Dean’s erection had withered to half-mast the mere sight of the creature’s empathy soothed him.

“I’m…I’m alright,” Dean groaned, trying in vain to adjust. It had been entirely too long since his last coupling with a man, as Cas was evidently reading from his thoughts. He blushed and looked down at Dean’s heaving chest and he buried his face there, making some strange whimpering, cooing noise. Dean rubbed at his back and tried to ignore the way the tentacle around his cock undulated with each of Cas’s soft cries against his chest. He was still hopelessly aroused, and judging by the flush that traveled from his cheeks to his chest and ears, so was Cas. If they were going to do this they were going to need a bit more than water to help the way.

“Um, so…” Dean mumbled, stuttering around attempts to explain what exactly needed to happen, and Cas, bless him, was trying to understand with a vaguely horrified expression when Dean told him what would happen to him if they weren’t careful. Dean was glad they were at least on the same page and the creature held no secret desire to make him bleed. Cas might have panicked a little when Dean told him it had happened to him once before when the man he was with was a bit too hasty and Cas gently pulled his finger free of Dean’s body. His breath hitched but there was little pain, and he was too embarrassed about the conversation to really care. He hadn’t really had to talk to anyone about it before, it was strange that Cas was a fully grown…whatever he was, had the ability to read minds, yet was still blushing and naïve when Dean told him about the birds and the bees. It was endearing, sort of.

“Do you understand?” Dean asked and Cas nodded, biting his lip in thought.

“So I don’t really know…how to, um…proceed…” Dean mumbled, so ready to be done with the conversation. Cas grinned and they both chuckled to cover their embarrassment. Cas nodded in understanding and he settled for kissing him again as he was clearly wont to do. He then took Dean’s hand and pulled it under the water, dragging it down his chest to tickle over his bunching tentacles, then lower. Dean flinched back, still frightened of the other man’s anatomy, but Cas smiled and pressed soothing kisses on his cheeks and forehead, pulling him further down.

Dean’s fingers then his hand and forearm managed to fit behind the largest tentacles, and the hollow beneath them was blood-warm and peppered with smaller, knobby protrusions. Dean grimaced and Cas gave him a patient smile, gasping when Dean’s fingers brushed against a deeper indentation. Curious, Dean pressed harder and there was slight give in the flesh. Unlike the surrounding area, it was hot and more than wet, it was slick with something thicker than water. Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s and his eyes were closed, his breaths coming in quick gasps. Dean angled his fingers and pressed further back and then he slipped _up_ into some sort of opening. Cas cried out and mouthed over Dean’s cheekbones, shuddering when Dean’s fingers dragged through the new opening.

Dean knew this was something more, something that they would have to explore in length, but later, for now Cas was biting along his jaw and neck, muttering nonsensical words and moans. Dean gathered as much of the thicker liquid he could along his fingers and pulled them out of the water. Cas whimpered at the loss of contact and Dean murmured promises for more later.

Dean reached down and pressed his fingers between his cheeks and Cas stared in wonder. Dean didn’t want to think about Cas staring at him so he shut his eyes and bit his lip as he pressed inside. He was used to this, the strange burn and drag now only slightly aided by the strange slick from Cas’s body. He grimaced through the small pain of entry and rocked his hips as much as he could, seeking the pleasure he knew from experience would come. He could never quite press hard enough on his own, before, and he eyed one of Cas’s idle tentacles, blush raging even harder. He imagined how deep Cas would press it, how it would feel sucking and catching along his insides, and would it drag or would it go in smooth, or would it stretch him so wide that it would take them hours for Cas to fit himself in him, deep and wet and hot. Dean moaned and clenched around his fingers. He wasn’t getting anywhere at this rate.

He forced himself to relax and managed to fit three fingers inside before Cas knocked his hand away and Dean gasped before Cas pressed one of his tentacles up into his body in place of his fingers. Dean moaned raggedly and squeezed his eyes shut; the feeling was something he could barely describe. Each pucker caught on his rim and eased into him, smoother than he would have thought. He managed to look down and he nearly fainted at the sight of tentacles between his legs, holding him open, impaling him, and he groaned when he saw the one making its way inside him was one of the _smaller_ ones.

“B-bi…big…” Dean murmured around Cas’s lips and the creature hummed, nipping at his lower lip to distract him. Dean fought for breath when Cas pressed harder, more of him pushing inside and Dean was sure his entire body was quivering and shaking. It felt like he had barely made it inside him before Cas was pulling out, bunching and undulating and Dean clenched and fought to keep him in, how could he even be that deep?

Cas stifled Dean’s whimpers when he surrounded him completely, pumping in and out with shallow thrusts, holding him so tight Dean couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and he felt too hot and too smothered but at the same time it was the greatest pleasure he had ever felt in his life. Each brush over his prostate punched a moan from him and Cas, emboldened, thrust harder, faster, until Dean was panting with his head tossed back and his toes curled and he was screaming Cas’s name when he came.

Cas cooed in his ear and pulled his tentacle free a moment later, kissing Dean when he winced at the pull on his sore rim. Dean sighed and breathed deep when Cas unwound his tentacles from his waist and legs, and the water from the pool rushed over his skin and it felt almost cold compared to Cas’s furnace of a body. Cas peppered kisses all over Dean’s face, his fingers trailed curiously through the blots of semen on Dean’s abdomen and chest and Dean made a face when Cas licked his fingers clean and he smiled sheepishly.

“As...as much as I want to stay in here with you, Cas, you gotta let me out of the water or I’m gonna be a prune in no time.”

Cas frowned but lifted him up onto the rocks surrounding the pool. Dean left his legs in and he laughed when Cas’s tentacles felt along the soles of his feet. Cas gazed up at him and wrapped his tentacles around Dean’s ankles and Dean wiped a strand of hair from his forehead and stroked from worry from his face.

“Don’t worry,” Dean smiled, “I’m not going too far away, not ever.” 

Cas trilled and rested his head on his elbows on the side of the pool and Dean laid down next to him and close his eyes, content. He wasn’t scared, for once, about staying on the island with Cas. He could always try to leave later, a long while from now, but for now he wanted to sleep next to his precious savior for as long as he wanted.  


End file.
